Hurt
by Tyoushiro
Summary: All Shin Makoku is celebrating the alliance with Small Shimeron, but Wolfram can only watch and wonder.
1. Hurt

AN: To those curious about the double chapter... My bad! T_T It's been a long time since I posted anything on , and the formatting has destroyed me! (Not to mention I was running late for work!) Sorry!

Thank you, everyone who reviewed!

Hurt

Wolfram was proud of himself, even if he was the only one who ever was. Watching as Saralegui and Yuuri interacted at the spring equinox, he had yet to throw the tantrum that just ached to be unleashed - instead, he sipped heavily from his wine glass, and did what he felt was a good job of not-glaring at the two kings from the corner of the room.

___ 'Jealousy won't bring you love, Young Master.'_That's what Yozak had said to him, not even very long ago. If that were true, then why was Yuuri still treating him the same way as always?

___'I'm so glad you're safe!'_

//Well, maybe not the exact same way as always…// he mused, blushing as he remembered Yuuri's arms wrapped around his shoulders, the smell of the demon king's shampoo. The gesture had been so unexpected - he had thought if anyone would be permitted a touch from the half-blood, it would be Conrart. Those two were constantly touching eachother - a hand on a shoulder, fingers grazing as they passed eachother food at the dinner table. Since having decided to follow Yozak's advice, it had taken every last bit of his strength not to scream in outrage.

Still, no one noticed how well behaved he'd been lately. They all still tip-toed around him like he was going to start scorching something at the slightest provocation. It wasn't fair!

//And they're still dancing!// To battle down the urge to light the drapes on fire, Wolfram downed the rest of his wine in a tear-choked gulp, and just for small spite, threw the glass into the fire. There was no one to notice, no one to care that he had done such a childish thing. Part of him was relieved, but he was mostly furious. There had been a time when all eyes were on -him- like that, before Yuuri came to Shin Makoku and Wolfram had found himself suddenly no longer the center of attention.

He stormed out of the ball room as Saralegui had the indecency to let his hand slide lower on Yuuri's back, rushing for the balcony before any self-restraint that could be, would be lost. The air was chilled, but not unpleasantly so. It made the fire in his veins slightly more bearable as he leaned against the carved railing, staring distantly over the gardens, remembering the past.

There had been very few children to play with as he was growing up, and Conrart - his little big brother - had done his best to make sure that he didn't notice such things at the time. In his earliest memories, Wolfram knew that Conrart was -always- there, to cheer him up, to play with. It was Dun Hiri's son who cared for the scrapes and bruises that came from Wolfram's escapades, and at the time, he'd been so endearingly obssessed with his brother because of it. Then one day, it was all gone.

The third son had no idea what changed between one day and the next - it had been that sudden. One day, Conrart was willing to follow him to the ends of the world, and the next… Wolfram was being dragged away from the breakfast table by a nurse maid. He had cried for his little big brother, and no one had come to stop his tears. Days had gone by, each the same - a blur - until Conrart left for the military academy.

Gwendal had taken up his charge then, filling his days with facts from long-ago, drilling the names and dates and places into his head until he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep at the desk in his brother's office. He had been heartsick, and missed the brother who would play with him. So when Conrart returned on a break from school, Wolfram had thought it right to let his brother know what a mistake it was to leave him behind. He tried to make Conrart jealous - told him that Gwendal was a much better brother, caring after his studies and trying to make him a better student than Conrart could ever be. Those brown eyes had been obviously hurt, but then they hardened, ignoring Wolfram completely.

//That's when people started to ignore me completely.// He was certain of it. After that, there had been no sneaking snacks from the maids, and none of the nobles who visited - with the exception of Uncle Waltorana - doted on him when they came to visit his mother. Sure, his mother's suitors all said sickly sweet things about him, and gave him toys to play with, but with no one to share them, life had been so… empty.

The rage that had filled him then, the bitterness of having lost his little big brother and not understanding -why- was the precursor to the 'selfish loafer' that everyone knew and dreaded. The last dinner they had had as a family before Conrart was to return to the academy, Wolfram had allowed his anger to consume him, and it manifested as the candles on the table exploding in a burst of violence fit for the battlefield. Hot wax had spewed over all of the diners, himself included, but the sparks gathered in the center of a table, wobbling at first as he struggled to control the flame. The ability came quickly to him, though, and to emphasize the horrified gasps of all who witnessed the event, he molded the fiery orb into a wolf that stood upon the table - singing the cloth as it growled and glared directly at Conrart.

___'Wolfram!'_Gwendal had been the one to break his concentration, and the fire beast had disappated quickly, along with his strength. But no one dared to ignore him after that day… except for Conrart.

"Shouldn't you be dancing, Young Master?"

The sound of footsteps behind him caught his attention and he turned, seeing Yozak dressed in military uniform. It was unusual, but the green material made the spy even more impressive.

"Hmph." he turned back to the garden, wishing that he could turn back time, to make different decisions in his life. What would life have been like if he had lived with his uncle instead? Maybe he never would have met Yuuri…

"Gotta say, it's been weird these last few months. I haven't heard you call his majesty 'wimp' or 'cheater' once. The whole castle is placing bets on whether or not you're sick, or found someone else."

"As if."

"The kid seems to be enjoying all the space you've given him. He's not a bad lead on the ballroom floor, either. The ladies are raving that he hasn't stepped on their toes once all evening."

Wolfram's fist clenched tightly, his fingernails digging deeply into his skin to draw blood. "Just… just leave me alone. Please."

The man didn't leave - he could tell, because he could see Yozak out of the corner of his eye. His brother's companion was just so… annoying. He sighed softly, and cursed silently the day he'd even heard of Saralegui - no doubt it was that, that…. -aitsu- who had improved Yuuri's ability to dance. Wolfram had tried to, once, but Yuuri had backed off so quickly, offended by the very idea that another boy would dance with him.

//But… Saralegui is a boy too, and Yuuri doesn't mind doing any of it with him. Is it me? Am I not pretty enough? Is there something wrong with me?//

He was overreacting. It was clear, even to him, that Yuuri had changed a lot in the two years they had known eachother. He no longer seemed to mind that Wolfram slept in his bed, and the idea of Wolfram having feelings for him obviously didn't bother him at all any more. Apparently, Yuuri's problem was that he didn't feel the same way for Wolfram. Maybe he was even planning to announce the dissolving of their engagement tonight, so that he could propose to Saralegui.

Before he could stop himself, Wolfram leaned further over the rail, retching what little he'd eaten at dinner and all the wine he'd indulged in over the edge. Tears pricked at his eyes as Yozak rubbed his back, smoothing his hair as he sobbed. His hands trembled violently against the marble rail, and the entire world was spinning dangerously around him. Slowly, he sank to the ground, not caring if his suit became ruined with dirt and grime. The coolness of the stone felt good against his hands and through the material of his pants.

"K'so!" Yozak was cursing, large hand brushing against his forehead. "He's burning up!"

There was the sound of footsteps again, and then Conrart was kneeling in front of him.

"Wolfram?" his brother asked gently, feeling at his face, studying his eyes. When Wolfram didn't have the strength to voice even a mild complaint, the older half-mazoku removed his outter jacket, handing it to Yozak. "Tell his majesty that I'll return after I've put Wolfram to bed."

"Right-o, boss."

Conrart helped him to his feet, which felt as though they had been replaced by lead blocks. Moving took effort that it normally wouldn't.

//Why… me?// he wondered darkly as they pushed though the small gathering of nobles in the dark recesses of the ball room. After they entered the hall, Wolfram could barely sound out his surprise when Conrart scooped him up like a bride being carried to her marriage bed, and easily carried him up the stairs to the room that was his alone.


	2. Battlefield

AN: I've gotten a lot of people adding this story to their alerts, so thank you very much! When I originally wrote Hurt, I didn't expect it to go further (it was a while ago). I've thought about it a lot (with your encouragement!) and have decided to continue it. There will be several chapters involving my take on Mazoku physiology (and what that means to Wolfram and Yuuri), Wolfram's relationship with his brothers and how it's evolved over the years, and more! I hope you continue to enjoy this story!

Battlefield

Gwendal von Voltaire was an accomplished, thorough mazoku. Skilled in the art of warfare, he could strike down a foe with a swipe of his sword, lead men into battle, and summon terrifying earthquakes with his powerful majutsu. Armed with a quill, he singlehandedly saved hundreds of innocent citizens from the menacing clutches of Anissina von Karbelnikoff during the day, and by night, composed poetry that few would have suspected him capable of writing.

//… it's getting late.// Looking to the clock on the mantle above the fire, he suppressed a heavy sigh. It was quarter past two, and he could still feel music from the ballroom band resonating off the stone walls. //I suppose I should make an appearance.//

The feather quill whispered softly as he placed it in its holder, his fingers stiff from holding it for so long. Slowly, he pushed back his chair and stood, feeling stiff muscles protest with each breath. As he walked towards the door, he could hear the sound of servants whispering in the hallway, their voices as distant and familiar as a memory.

_'Oniichan! Come play with me!'_

Conrart had been absolutely impossible to say 'no' to as a child, fearlessly waltzing into whatever room his big brother had been residing in and demanding they play at swords. They would spend hours in mock battle if not for Gunter's intervention, telling Conrart in no uncertain terms that his big brother had responsibilities, and that someday the younger boy would be in a position to better understand.

//And then Wolfram was born, and Gunter couldn't have been more right.//

The servants had been chattering away that day, too. It had been the height of summer, the hottest day in over fifty years, when their mother had gone into labor. He could recall the look of apprehension in Conrart's face as they sat outside their mother's bedroom door, waiting for their newest sibling to arrive. Sunlight streamed through a nearby window, making their wait as unbearable as if they had been sitting in the middle of a desert. Vests had been abandoned to nearby chairs, shoes and socks left lying beneath the antiquated furniture while they struggled to remain cool. When at last the door opened, Gwendal was certain that Conrart would never again be the same.

Where at one time Conrart had demanded to duel for pretend, after Wolfram's birth, he convinced Gunter to teach him for real. While their mother was trapped in politics, making difficult decisions that they would never know about, Gwendal attended his studies with his infant brother in a crib nearby, ever alert for the slightest sound of discomfort from the child. Together, they became Wolfram's pseudo-parents.

A sigh escaped his lips, and Gwendal opened the door. His steps echoed in the nearly-empty corridors as he walked towards the ballroom, the music becoming louder as he drew nearer to his destination. In his youth, he had attended many similar events, and while he did not begrudge those who enjoyed such celebrations, he was not above admitting his distaste for them.

"Ah, there you are, Gwendal!" Gunter exclaimed as he entered the room. The long-haired mazoku was dressed in a rather form-fitting suit of lavender silk, his hair pulled up into a loose tail. "I was starting to worry that you wouldn't come at all."

Grunting in response, slate grey eyes searched the room for any sign of his brothers.

"Conrart and Yosak had to escort Wolfram back to his room. I actually feel badly for the little brat, he looked terrible."

"What are you on about?"

Gunter sighed, then turned Gwendal's face slightly towards the dance floor with the touch of a long, well-manicured finger. Immediately Yuuri and Saralegui came into focus, as well as the human king's hand placement. Blood rushed to his head, throbbing in his veins with insurmountable anger.

//How… dare he..?!//

"I must admit, Saralegui does seem an appropriate match for Heika. Having experience ruling a country of his own, and being responsible for so many lives, Saralegui is perhaps a bit more mature than Wolfram is. It's all anyone can talk about. Everyone I've spoken to is excited to hear when Heika will announce his intentions."

//INTENTIONS?!//

"I've had enough!" With a fierce growl, Gwendal's hands curled into fists, fingernails biting into his skin until he was certain he was bleeding. The floor began to quake with palpable force, effectively halting the festivities. He didn't stop to listen to Gunter's sympathetic concerns; he turned around and left the ball room, feeling as thoroughly betrayed as Wolfram no doubt had as well.

There was no one who dared stop him on his way to Wolfram's room, if he passed anyone at all. When at last he stood before the door of his little brother's bedchambers, he paused to gather his composure.

"Um, Gwendal?" Yuuri's voice was tremulous behind him, and though he tried not to, he could picture the Maou's saddened face. Despite having spent more than two years in Shin Makoku, the half-mazoku boy still barely grasped mazoku traditions. He didn't understand what had happened, it wasn't fair to be so upset with him.

//But it's not fair to Wolfram that Heika isn't even trying to understand.// The thought was, perhaps, a little harsh - but it was truth. If Yuuri spent more time listening to Gunter, instead of daydreaming about baseball and ducking out of the office to play with Greta and Conrart, then perhaps none of this would have happened. Unfortunately, the past couldn't be rewritten, and Heika needed to learn that even inaction had consequence.

Ignoring his king's question, he turned the doorknob and slowly pushed.

Inside, the room was dark but for the fireplace. Despite the limited light, Gwendal could see Conrart's tall form leaning against the headboard of the bed, Wolfram pressed against his side. Hearing the door open, Conrart's head turned slightly towards him, brown eyes filled with sadness and exhaustion.

"He's only just fallen asleep." his younger brother whispered, running his hand through Wolfram's hair. "Did Yosak tell you?"

Gwendal shook his head mutely, then walked further into the room. The door he left open, allowing Yuuri to choose whether or not to eavesdrop.

//Let him see the mess he's made.//

Slowly, he sat himself on the edge of the bed. "You should rest."

Conrart nodded, and carefully tried to disentangle himself from their youngest brother. With a whine, Wolfram's fingers dug into the soldier's tunic, refusing to let go.

"It's okay, Wolf, I'll be back." Conrart whispered, patting the blonde's head. Long, deceptively feminine fingers released their hold, though it seemed rather reluctant. The brunette warrior stood and stretched, turning his attention to his dark-haired brother. "Do you need something from the kitchens?"

It had been several hours since Gwendal had eaten anything, and his stomach chose that moment to speak up. As he settled himself on the bed, Wolfram's head resting on his legs, he tried to ignore Conrart's imperious smile.

"I'll bring back sandwiches."

He didn't bother warning his brother about the possibility that Yuuri was lurking outside the door. Conrart, protective of Yuuri as he was, wouldn't have let his surprise show even if the maou had been standing on his head in his underwear on the balcony, let alone skulking about the hallway listening to their conversation. He had more important things to worry about, like the little brother whose heart had been broken.

"B-brother..." Wolfram's voice was soft, and somewhat shaky, as he spoke suddenly. Looking down, Gwendal could see that despite the tears threatening to overflow thick sooty lashes, the fire-wielding terror was managing to hold himself together. "I've made up my mind. I'm leaving for Bielefeld tomorrow morning." Silence hung thick in the air, Wolfram's shoulders shaking slightly in the semi-dark. "I c-can't... can't stay. It's too much, I -"

"... I know."

In all honesty, Gwendal was very proud of Wolfram for making the decision on his own. Custom had been broken, whether Yuuri realized it or not, and there was no other alternative. Even Bielefeld promised no respite for the youngest son of the twenty-sixth maou.

//Waltorana will not be happy to hear of this.//

A shudder ran down his spine, recalling memories of Stoffel - his mother's brother - and the arguments he had with Lord von Bielefeld. Waltorana was extremely protective of his nephew, with a rage second only to Wolfram's. God help Yuuri if the man managed to get within a few yards: not even Gisela would be able to save him.

"I'll make the arrangements for you. Yosak can ready your men at dawn to begin preparations."

"No!" the blond head shook against his thigh. "This is my shame to bear. Lucien can handle them, and at least here they'll be able to do more good. It's not like I'll be allowed to take them... when I..."

"I'm back!" Conrart announced, stepping into the room with a tray of sandwiches and glasses of goats milk. If he had been talking to Yuuri, he showed no outward sign of it.

//But then, Conrart's always been good at hiding behind that cheerful mask.//

With a soft, tired smile on his face, the Lion of Luttenburg placed the tray on Wolfram's nightstand, then offered a sandwich to his brothers. Wolfram, sick with grief, flat out refused to even attempt a bite. Gwendal, on the other hand, was famished. He fell upon the proffered food like a bird to its prey, feeling the satisfaction of a full stomach.

"So what did I miss?" the brunette asked, taking a large bite of his own sandwich.

"I'm leaving for Bielefeld tomorrow."

Immediately, surprised brown eyes met Gwendal's, the blood having drained all color from Conrart's face. "What? But... Yuuri has no idea what it meant, he wouldn't force to you go!"

"That's not the point. Just because Heika isn't aware of a custom doesn't mean that the tradition doesn't exist, does it? That's how this whole mess started to begin with!" he growled, trying desperately to ignore the hurt look in Wolfram's green eyes.

"It's better this way. My birthday will come, and life will go on. I'll live!"

There was no changing Wolfram's mind when he had made a decision - something Gwendal had learned the hard way. After sending Conrart to the military academy, he had taken responsibility for his youngest brother's education. It had been a thankless, impossible task made more difficult by the boy's loud demands that Conrart be returned to him - immediately!

_'Conrart has his own problems to worry about, he doesn't need to be babysitting a brat like you!'_ Gwendal had retorted when at last his patience had worn out.

Wolfram had closed his eyes, crossed his arms over his small chest let out an indignant sound. _'Don't care! Bring him back!'_

_ 'You're going to sit down and listen to what I'm trying to teach you or I'll tan your hide until you can't sit right for a week!'_

_ 'I'll tell Hahue!'_

He'd lost any ability to put up with Wolfram's stubbornness at that point, taking the child over his knee and following through with his threat. Sobs had torn from Wolfram's throat, but even so, he had continued to demand Conrart's presence every day.

//Until *that* day.//

When Conrart had returned home, Wolfram pretended that they'd been having a grand old time without their half-human brother in an attempt to make him jealous. It hadn't worked, and instead resulted in a rather spectacular display of fire majutsu that was peculiar for one as young as the blond-haired terror had been. After that, Gwendal had happily handed Wolfram's education over to Lady Susannah Julia, and his younger brothers began to ignore each other completely.

Never would he have imagined that Wolfram's eighty-fifth birthday would arrive under such circumstances. Though he could honestly say that he hadn't looked forward to seeing Yuuri's reaction to the mile-stone event, even that would have been preferable to the reality of Wolfram's current situation. Even Conrart was starting to understand, albeit reluctantly.

"What will we tell Yuuri?"

"I don't care! Tell him someone died and I have obligations, anything!" Wolfram barked. "It's not like he's going to care, anyway!"

Gwendal suspected that Yuuri would care, but refrained from making such a comment out loud. When your little brother had a tendency to flame-roast moving targets in his free time, it was generally a good idea not to present yourself as an easy bull's-eye.

"Don't bother trying to change his mind when it's clearly made up, Conrart."

Instantly, Conrart closed his mouth, though he was obviously upset by Wolfram's accusation.

"We'll tell his majesty that Wolfram was called to Bielefeld by Waltorana - which won't be too far from the truth. Yosak will escort him there as quickly as possible. By the time Heika realizes that something is amiss, it will be... over."

Over. That was the only way he could describe what Wolfram's life would be after his eighty-fifth birthday: over. For such a simple custom, something that Gunter surely had not neglected to tell Heika, Wolfram would be lost to them, bound to a life he had never been prepared for.

//And I swear this to you, Shinou,// Gwendal swore, his hands curled in Wolfram's silk tresses, //when that day comes, I will never forgive Yuuri Heika!//


	3. Nevermore

AN: Thank you again to all of you who reviewed! I really enjoy writing this story! I'm sorry to say that updates may be longer in the future, as I begin college next Monday, and I still work about 35 hours a week. Just keep poking me with reviews, though, and I'm bound to update! BTW, Yuuri's POV is coming soon!

Nevermore

Early morning found Yosak standing in front of the castle gate, watching in silent disapproval.

//How can you let this happen?// He had asked Conrart that very question as the half-mazoku warrior entered the kitchens, but received only a small, sorrowful smile and shrugging of shoulders. The Lion of Luttenberg, reduced to little more than an observer to Shinou's will. When it concerned the matters of the castle, Gwendal was at least an active participant, but even he seemed reluctant to make Wolfram see reason.

//The Maou isn't a traditionalist like we're used to!// He wanted to scream, but realized that it would take much more than raising his voice to get through to one as stubborn as Wolfram. Conrart's younger brother was very much a traditionalist, with enough pride for ten mazoku. Rude, and at times, a little obnoxious, the kid had a tendency to attract trouble like a magnet, but this…

//This just doesn't feel right.//

If he had been Conrart – hell, even if he'd been Gwendal – he would have at least had the decency to inform the Maou as to his misstep, and Wolfram would not have been allowed to leave his room until then. Apparently, though, Yuuri's closest friends and advisors thought that they knew best. In a way, he couldn't blame them – eighty four years of living with Wolfram had taught more than a few people that it was best to let the blonde mazoku have his way, or risk the pain of his flaring temper. Even so, he couldn't help but glare a little at the two older brothers who did nothing but watch as Wolfram walked towards the horse Yosak had prepared for their journey.

"Don't bother being upset with them." Wolfram commanded, voice little more than a harsh whisper in the night. "This is my decision, not theirs."

In the dim light of early morning, Wolfram looked like a fallen angel. His eyes were slightly swollen and red, skin pale, and his hair lacked its usual shine. Dressed in simple traveler's garb, the youth had only a ring on his middle right hand finger to signify his lineage: the family crest of von Spitzveg. A swell of sympathy rose in Yozak's throat, but he squashed the words before they could escape. The last thing Wolfram would want – from anybody – was pity.

"Whatever you say, Young Master."

Green eyes leveled a fierce, appraising glare in his direction, as if sensing the sadness in his heart. For a brief, breath-catching moment, the fire mage's eyes were bright with the sheen of tears, but as quickly as it came, it was gone. Wolfram stuck his nose in the air and marched towards the horse. "I say we're leaving. Now!"

As he held the horse steady for Wolfram to mount it, he half expected an outburst from either of his brothers. There was nothing: Gwendal's face was an imperceptible mask, and Conrart looked more tired than upset. To be fair, neither of them had gotten much rest. In a few days, maybe they would realize that this was a mistake. He could hope, for the kid's sake.

"What are you waiting for, Gurrier? An invitation? Let's _go_!"

Shaking his head to snap himself out of his musings, Yosak put his hand on the saddle's pommel and pulled himself onto the horse's back. Without another glance back, he kicked the horse forward, ignoring Wolfram's surprised yelp as they cantered through the gates and into open field.

The world seemed to fly by in a blur as the horse raced across the ground. It felt a little like _that_ night, more than twenty years ago, when he had wearily dragged both himself and Conrart back from Luttenberg. The horse he had stolen had been just as fast, but Conrart had been considerably larger than Wolfram, and heavier too. When they had arrived at the front line first aid camp, it had been hard to tell what color the horse had been for all the blood.

Susannah Julia had been so worried, and then… she had perished. She had been like a sister to Conrart, and was probably the closest thing to a friend as Wolfram had ever had. The youngest Prince had been distraught by her death, and when Conrart had gone missing… Somehow, it felt like he was reliving that time again. Only now, he was whisking Wolfram away to whatever fate Shinou had in store for him. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, especially since the third son seemed to be okay with sacrificing himself and everything he had been so proud of.

In less than a month, Wolfram would turn eighty-five years old. For Mazoku, it was a very important, life-altering event. The nobility took great pride in the eighty-fifth birthday celebration, as it was a time for the young mazoku to choose a mate. When Yuuri had proposed to Wolfram after having arrived at Covenant Castle, there had been a collective sigh of relief from many mazoku, not the least of whom had been Gwendal and Conrart. Everyone had wondered for decades whether the opinionated, spoiled prince would find a mate on his eighty-fifth birthday, or if he would become one of the famous few that would be lost to the madness of heat. When Yuuri came along, that worry had ebbed away. Wolfram had begun to change, for the better, until the half-mazoku Maou messed it all up with one dance. If he hadn't heard about it already, by morning, Waltorana von Bielefeld would find himself hemorrhaging political allies and valuable stock, and no doubt would be inundated with missives from the multitude of mazoku whom Wolfram had offended over the years. With such a stigma on his hands, it was only to be expected that Waltorana would sell his favorite nephew off to the highest bidder, retracting Wolfram's family name and casting him as far out of the province as possible.

The life that Wolfram could expect to lead after being disowned was one of slavery at best, and at worst, as a bed-warmer. In either case, he would be subjected to the whims of others, and allowed no opinion or freedom of his own. It wasn't something that Yozak would imagine the blond would grow to like, or even accept.

In the distance, the sun was just starting to rise over the trees, revealing a beautiful, cloudless sky. It seemed wrong, out of place, under such dark circumstances. Far behind them, servants would be cleaning up the castle, and Yuuri would be waking for his morning jog with Conrart. How long could the commander hide this from the Maou? It had been three hours, judging from the position of the sun, since they had left the castle. They would be to the first check point within another hour, and after that, it was a little more than a day's travel to Bielefeld's capital.

Wolfram swayed dangerously in front of him, forcing him to grab the blond mazoku about the waist. Dazed green eyes glared at him as his head turned. "Wha –"

"We're going to stop and rest for a bit. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty beat." Yozak replied casually, tugging gently on the reins until the horse came to a halt.

A yawn reached his ears as he carefully dismounted, and he couldn't help but watch as Wolfram stretched like a small child. He reached up, offering the prince some assistance, and regretted it instantly.

"I'm not some helpless wimp! I can get down on my own!" he insisted, swinging his leg over the saddle and landing on the ground with a less-than-graceful thud. Green eyed gaze met blue, daring Yozak to back away.

"Just trying to be helpful." The spy replied, raising his hands and backing off. He sat down against a nearby tree, feeling the chill of the ground seep through his clothing in a somewhat pleasant way.

"I don't need help from anybody, least of all you!" The words were not meant for him, he realized with exhaustion. As calm as the kid might seem on the outside, inside, he was furious. Really, who could blame him? Yuuri's lack of knowledge had taken him from the glorified status of Maou's fiancé to the worst kind of outcast possible.

"You know," Yozak said slowly, "We don't _have_ to go to Bielefeld. We could go anywhere."

"Ha! Like where, Cavalcade? I can't do that. My majutsu won't work there, for one." Wolfram sat down beside him with a sigh, closing his eyes. "Besides, without you, Weller would be sad. I appreciate the offer, though."

A moment of silence fell between them, until all they could hear was the sound of nearby birds and the rustling of leaves in the wind.

"You're either really brave, or incredibly stupid, kiddo." He said at last, watching as the boy's shoulders slumped.

"Who says I can't be both?" Wolfram's knees were drawn up to his chest, arms thrown around them tightly. Slowly, the mazoku turned his head so that his cheek rested atop his knees, and his red-rimmed gaze was on his red-haired companion. "I should have seen this day coming. Yuuri said he didn't want to marry me, he said it so often… I'm just… really, really dense."

Helplessly, Yozak watched as tears began to well up in Wolfram's eyes, slowly spilling over thick lashes and soaking the coarse material of his clothes. He could remember when Conrart turned one hundred, and went through his first mating period. Yozak had found his future commander sobbing in frustration in their shared bathroom at the academy. They hadn't been in school very long at all, the half-mazoku had been homesick, missing his brothers, when his body betrayed him. It had been three days before Yozak had calmed him enough to return to their regular classes, and they had both agreed to never speak of it again to anyone.

With Conrart, no one had imagined that he would experience the mating madness at all. He hadn't been betrothed, or in any sort of relationship at all, so when Yozak had supplied what his body demanded, there had been very little emotional recoil. Wolfram, however, had been in love with the person he'd been engaged to. To be thrown aside like a used toy now, when he was most in need of someone, was both tragic and cruel.

"It's better this way, for everyone. Yuuri will be free to love whomever he chooses, and I'm…" Wolfram swallowed, hard. "I'm going to be okay!"

//Damn you, Conrart. If you and Gwendal don't tell Yuuri what time it is by the time I get back, I swear I'll do it myself!// Yozak promised.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to need some shut eye. Do me a favor and wake me in an hour, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever." Wolfram agreed.

Yozak smiled gently at him, then closed his eyes. He still didn't like Wolfram's decision, but until Yuuri knew what had happened, there was little chance of changing the stubborn brat's mind.

* * *

Waltorana von Bielefeld read the letter in his hands for the third time that morning. Surely he had misread it, there had to be a mistake. There was no way that Wolfram would have allowed himself to be so shamed by anyone, let alone that, that… that wimp of a king! As his eyes carefully reexamined Gwendal's writing, however, his heart fell. There was no mistake: Yuuri had danced with Saralegui at the ball, Gwendal had seen it himself, watched as the human king insulted their country and their ruler with what – to some – would seem such a minute gesture.

Enraged, the parchment crumpled in his grasp. How could this have happened? Wolfram, the promise of Bielefeld's honorable future, was now worth less than the serving boy cowering in the corner behind him. Their noble family name had been more than besmirched – Yuuri Heika, the fool, had completely demolished the Bielefeld line in one fell swoop!

"Temir!" he growled, calling the servant to his side.

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Send for a messenger. I want the swiftest rider to take a letter to Covenant Castle."

"Right away, my lord!"

Massaging his temple, Waltorana glared down at the letter clutched in the fingers of his left hand. So many years of hard work, and for what?

"Excuse me, my lord."

Turning his head, the Lord of Bielefeld saw Lavinia, the head of his staff. In her delicate fingers, she held a letter sealed with gold wax.

"A man has arrived, asking that you read this. He requests an audience."

Taking the letter, Waltorana broke the seal and let his eyes fall over the ink written upon the fine parchment. Immediately, his jaw went slack. There was hope to be had within the letter, small, but better than the other choices Yuuri's folly presented.

"Show him in, Lavinia, show him in!"

_To be continued…._


	4. Already Gone

AN: This chapter is later, and a little bit shorter than I was hoping it would be. I spent several days writing, then deleting, rewriting, and deleting some more. I'm trying to squeeze out as much of my homework assignments as possible ASAP, but I don't know how much English homework I'm going to have until after tonight's class. I really do appreciate all the reviews I'm getting, they're the only thing keeping me writing at this point. Please continue to review, so that I can get through my homework and continue to write for you!

Already Gone

Wolfram was right, Yuuri mused as he and Sara walked out into the courtyard where Conrad and Greta were playing at swords. If the people of Shin Makoku knew how much of a coward he really was, surely they would realize how much better someone like Conrad or Gwendal would be as Maou?

"Papa!" Greta's voice echoed loudly in his ears as he stepped into her line of vision. Dressed in a simple tunic and the long, layered skirt that was considered to be fashionable by the nobility, his adopted daughter looked the very image of innocence as she ran towards him.

Smiling, Yuuri knelt down to catch the nearly eleven-year-old child in a bear hug. "Good morning, Greta-chan!"

"I heard everyone saying that you and Papa Wolf danced well last night! I bet he was really happy!"

Blood rushed from Yuuri's face as Greta smiled up at him. He hadn't danced with Wolfram at all the previous night. In fact, he hadn't even seen the blonde mazoku after they entered the room together. As soon as they had left the grand staircase, Sara had pulled Yuuri away for the first dance.

_'Shin Makoku music is so beautiful,'_ Small Shimeron's king had said. _'I want to share it with Yuuri!'_

The platinum blonde king hadn't given Yuuri the chance to say 'no', really. Not only had Sara insisted on dancing the first dance with him, the human noble took Yuuri's fifth and tenth dances as well. It was the last dance they had shared that disturbed him the most, since it had ended with Sara practically molesting him on the floor in front of _everyone_! Yuuri's saving grace had been the quaking floor which, looking up to the top of the staircase, had been caused by none other than Wolfram's oldest half-brother, Lord Gwendal von Voltaire. The Maou had excused himself then, ignoring the odd look of satisfaction on Sara's face as he followed Gwendal out of the room.

_'Um, Gwendal?'_ That was all he had managed to say after finally catching up to the secretary of state. Those broad shoulders had been very tense – even more so than usual – and spoke of anger. Yuuri had responded the only way he had known how: he fled to his bedroom, just like the wimp Wolfram always accused him of being.

"I danced with Yuuri last night." Sara announced proudly, wrapping his arms around Yuuri's shoulders from behind. "He was marvelous!"

Greta's smile faltered, Yuuri noted somewhat guiltily. She was very attached to her Papa Wolf. "But… Everyone is saying Papa looked so happy with his fiancé. Papa's fiancé is Wolfram, isn't it?"

"Sara and I danced last night, Greta. It didn't mean anything other than we're friends, okay?" Yuuri replied. //Wolfram is going to kill me if he hears about this! I can hear him screaming _'Cheater!'_ right now!//

His daughter didn't look convinced, but she nodded. "It's almost time for my social studies lesson. I'll see you at lunch, Papa!"

"It was very hard not to tell her the truth, Heika." Conrad said suddenly, causing Yuuri to stand and throw Sara off his back. "She was very happy thinking that you and Wolfram had danced last night."

"Man, I feel guilty enough about it. It's not like Wolf is going to let me hear the end of it when he hears the rumors Greta was listening to." Yuuri sighed. "I'll make it up to him when I see him. So where is he, anyway?"

There was something off about Conrad today, Yuuri decided suddenly. It wasn't his hair, necessarily – though it was unusually lackluster – and while his eyes had a bit of a bruised look to them, they usually got that way whenever his godfather had a falling out with Yozak, the resident spy. The uniform was just as crisp as always, seeming to lack any smudge of dirt at all, so what was it that bothered him so much…?

"Wolfram… is on his way to his Uncle's." Conrad responded slowly. "Preparations, for his upcoming birthday celebration."

"Birthday?"

Over the past few years, Yuuri had found himself at the mercy of Shinou's will and his own fluctuating powers. As a result, when it seemed like only a few minutes or hours passed on Earth, he would return to find that weeks and even months had passed in Shin Makoku – his only viable excuse for having missed both Greta and Wolfram's respective birthdays two years in a row. If Wolfram was upset that Yuuri hadn't asked him to dance the night before, the fire mage would be royally pissed off if Yuuri missed his birthday this year, of that, Yuuri was certain.

"Right then! Prepare the horses!" Yuuri announced with a smile.

"Pr-prepare the… the horses, Heika?" Conrad stammered, eyes wide with surprise.

"Well, Sara said last night that he's going back to Small Shimeron today, and I've got nothing else planned, so let's go to Bielefeld! We can help Waltorana with the plans for Wolfram, and that way he'll be really surprised on his birthday!"

"Er… well, that is… a very nice… thought, but…"

Yuuri reached out, patting his godfather on the arm gently. "I want to make it up to him, Conrad. I know he probably left this morning really, really mad at me about last night. He's probably so angry at me that he won't be able to sleep. This way, maybe I can make it better. Understand?"

Hazel eyes softened, and Yuuri realized what it was that had been so off. Conrad wasn't smiling like he usually did. Normally, even under attack from Wolfram, Conrad's smile was like pure sunlight – something that couldn't be turned off. Slowly though, that gentle smile was beginning to reappear from behind whatever clouds were brewing in the soldier's mind. It reassured Yuuri that this was the right course of action, that he had to get to Bielefeld, one way or another.

"I'll prepare the horses myself, Yuuri."

Heart feeling lighter than it had since fleeing to his room earlier that morning, Yuuri returned the Lion of Luttenburg's smile watt-for-watt. "Thank you! We'll make Wolf's eighty-fifth birthday the best birthday ever!"

* * *

Yuuri was naïve. It made him easy to manipulate, but it was a trait that also annoyed Saralegui to no end.

//How does a boy like that become chosen as the King of Demons?// he wondered, packing the last of his clothes into his trunk.

Even the Maou's handlers were irritatingly innocent, buying Saralegui's sweet smiles and soft-spoken childishness as eagerly as a child bought candy. Only two were immune to his charms: Wolfram – Yuuri's fiancé – and his oldest half-brother, Gwendal. Of the two, Wolfram had presented the biggest threat to Small Shimeron's plans.

//But not anymore. Last night will have made sure of that.//

Nothing could be more deplorable than a king who did not understand his country's traditions. Now, thanks to Yuuri's lack of knowledge, Wolfram would no longer remain Sara's greatest threat. Instead, the blond mazoku would become a central key to unlocking all of Small Shimeron's potential. Excitement poured through his veins like quicksilver, and he couldn't suppress a grin.

"Are you ready, my lord?" a servant asked from the doorway.

Sara turned, flashing a smile. "Yes."

With a bow, the servant entered the room and began to carry his trunk out of the room. Sara looked around one more time, appreciating the poetic justice of the situation. As he walked out of the room, he thought of the future, and the look on Yuuri's face when he realized that Sara had much, much larger plans for Shin Makoku and the mazoku that were native to the country.

* * *

"He wants to do what?!" Gwendal demanded, feeling the vein in his forehead begin to throb. Across the desk from him, Conrart smiled weakly at him, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well… he said that he wanted to make it up to Wolfram. Perhaps he realized what his actions meant."

Shaking his head at his brother, Gwendal suppressed the urge to scream. "'Make it up to Wolfram'?! If Waltorana lays eyes on him, Heika will be little more than a pile of ash on the doorstep! I'd recommend that we go retrieve Wolfram by ourselves, but…"

"Chances are, Waltorana will blame us as much as Heika, since we didn't try to stop what was happening."

"Stop it?" He released a deep sigh, thinking back to the previous night. "I'm surprised that Wolfram let it happen to begin with. A few weeks ago and he wouldn't have let that… AITSU… anywhere near Heika."

Nodding his agreement, Conrart glanced out the window to where the carriage waiting for Small Shimeron's king stood. Soon enough, the cause of their current concern would be going back to his own country.

//Good riddance!// Gwendal grumbled.

"His hormones are probably starting to fluctuate. It explains his somewhat unusual behavior, and the degree of fever he had last night." His younger brother replied. "You know what Wolf is like when he's not feeling well."

Recalling their youngest half-brother's childhood tantrums, Gwendal shuddered. When he was very little, Wolfram had contracted dragon pox – a fairly common disease among children that caused adorable little freckles to bloom along the face, but was accompanied by fever and uncontrollable hiccoughing. At the time, their mother had been in Wincott lands for a meeting of the Ten Noble Families, leaving Gwendal and Conrart in charge. He could still recall the look of delight on Conrart's face when, trying to get Wolfram to at least try to drink down some chicken broth, a particularly violent hiccough had his baby brother spewing the hot liquid in his face. When the green-eyed, spoilt prince saw Conrart's shoulders shaking with laughter, he had let out the loudest tirade about the uselessness of humans and half-mazoku – though it had less impact since the boy hiccoughed nearly every other word.

"And what do you think of this foolish idea?"

"I have faith that Yuuri will do what is best. If he thinks we should go to Bielefeld, then so do I."

//Shinou have mercy on you, Heika.// Gwendal thought darkly. //Since Waltorana certainly will not.//

"Very well, then." He agreed. "But don't expect me to weep if Lord von Bielefeld succeeds in toasting Heika."

Conrart's smile widened as he stood and walked towards the door. "I'd never dream of it."

To be continued…


	5. Goodbye to You

Authors note: I'm really glad that everyone seems to be enjoying this story! Thankfully, I managed to get the majority of my homework done for the week, which means that I had a lot of time to write! Hopefully this week will be the same!

Goodbye to You

Wolfram was completely silent as the horse halted in front of his Uncle's mansion. The midday sun shone brightly upon the land, highlighting the beautiful fields of wheat in the distance, and the apple orchard where he had played in his youth. Swallowing loudly, he didn't wait for Yozak's prodding to dismount the horse. He could do this on his own, no matter what anyone – let alone his brother's annoying friend – thought of him.

Almost as soon as his boots scuffed on the paved brick, his uncle appeared at the front door. For several minutes, they stared at each other from afar, neither of them quite ready to admit what was happening. His reality was grim, even if he was allowed to remain at his father's family home until someone made an offer… he would be lucky to find someone willing to treat him decently.

//And because of me, the Bielefeld line will end.// He mused. //All because I couldn't make Yuuri love me.//

"We can still go back, Young Master." Yozak whispered behind him.

"This is my responsibility. I have to do this."

He didn't look back to see the red-haired spy, but he knew that pitying look Yozak had to be giving him. It was becoming all-too familiar lately. As his feet moved over the ground, he felt his heart begin to beat in a rhythm that reminded him of the war drums heard in the distance right before Conrart left to fight in the battle at Luttenburg. At the time, he had such an overwhelming feeling of dread, though he had not known how terribly his half-human brother would be injured.

As he approached the older mazoku, he wanted to sob, or throw himself into his uncle's arms and cry himself into oblivion. Years before, when Conrart was in the academy, it had been his father's beloved brother who had soothed his childhood hurts, though their visits had been far and few between. It was very difficult to grasp the idea that he would never again see his family again, and as tempted as he was to turn around and let Yozak lead him far away, he could not bring himself to shame his beloved uncle.

"Wolfram." Waltorana's voice was filled with sadness, his normally impassive gaze darkened with an emotion his nephew had not seen since he was very, very small. "I had hoped that your stay would be longer, that we could have a few days to ourselves."

Behind him, Wolfram heard the sound of Yozak's horse trotting for the hills in the west – there would be no turning back now. Stomach turning, he murmured, "I'm so sorry!"

A small smile touched his uncle's lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "What have you to be sorry for?" Slowly, Wolfram found himself wrapped in Lord von Bielefeld's arms, smelled the scent of dragonsbreath tea that his uncle favored above all others. "I hope the decision I've made is a good one. I could see no other option."

"I see my lovely companion has arrived at last!" A thunderous voice crashed down upon their last moment of comfort, earning a glare from the Maou's former fiancé. The man – if such a person could be called a man – that had appeared in his green-eyed vision was nearly twice Wolfram's height, with all the muscle definition of a gladiator and the ferocious appearance of a bear. A long, unruly braid hung over the man's silk-clad shoulders, barely concealing the hilt of a rapier on the man's hip. "A fine specimen of your mazoku blood!"

"I'm no one's 'specimen'!" Wolfram growled, untangling himself from Waltorana's embrace. "Who is this person?"

The stranger was in front of him, a large, meaty hand grasping his left wrist and tugging him towards a large, broad chest. Unable to fight the pull, Wolfram found himself looking up into cruel brown eyes, and felt a stab of pain spread throughout his body. It felt familiar, but he couldn't find the focus to recall it.

"I'm your new master, though you can call me Lord Jerai." Rough, callused fingers stroked the skin of his cheek, sending shivers down his spine. The desire to pull away was overwhelming his mind, but he was struggling to keep the pain in his body from showing on his face. "Ah, before I forget! I have a few little treasures for you."

Without letting go of the wrist held captive in his iron grip, Lord Jerai reached into his tunic and removed two intricately sculpted gold bracelets, each set with several gems that were roughly the size of his thumbnail. In the bright light of day, the jewels appeared to be deep blue with flecks of pink and red as the light on the facets. A deft movement of the hand on his arm pulled the captured limb slightly upward, leaving Wolfram helpless to watch as the large hand holding the two gold cuffs descended, easily slipping one band over the bone of his wrist and closing it with a soft metallic _clink_. The pain felt stronger, as though a part of his soul was being torn from his body. When his wrist was released, the former soldier pulled back quickly, ignoring Waltorana's protests.

"Not so fast, sweetheart!" Jerai reprimanded, descending upon him like the lions Yuuri had once told him about. There was no time to think, only lash out with his legs in a kick that was both painful and ineffective. Jerai backhanded him easily, then took hold of his right arm before slipping the second bracelet on.

"Arg!" he growled, feeling his cheek throb where Jerai's hand had landed. His body felt like lead, his movements sluggish at best as he fought to sit up.

"I don't have to be a bad guy, but I'll do what I have to if you insist on giving me a hard time. Don't test my patience." Jerai said unapologetically, forcing Wolfram to his unsteady feet.

"Wolfram." Waltorana's voice was a warning: _Don't make this harder on me than it already is_.

//I'm trying.// It was just so difficult to fight his nature.

"This should calm you down enough until we get to port." Reaching once more into his tunic, Jerai produced what appeared to be a thick gold band similar to the bracelets that adorned Wolfram's wrists, but larger and set with a stone that was almost as big as a walnut.

The pain he felt intensified as the necklace drew closer to his skin, causing Wolfram to cry out and struggling futilely against Jerai's unyielding hold. Tears slipped past his lashes as the metal touched his skin, the latch closing and robbing him of the little strength he had remaining. Wordless, his legs folded underneath him. He had no energy to so much as sob when the bear-like man hoisted him into the air like a doll.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Lord von Bielefeld!" Jerai's voice boomed as Wolfram's eyes began to droop of their own volition.

//Yuuri…// he thought to himself, desperately trying to claw his way from sleep. He heard the sound of horses hooves on the ground, then the slide of a door being opened. The last sound he heard before darkness overwhelmed his senses was that of a dark, satisfied chuckle.

* * *

"Wolf-ram…"

Wolfram sighed, turning his face into the chest beneath his cheek and breathing in deeply. Yuuri's scent filled his nose, making his skin tingle with the apple-cinnamon sweetness of it. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him close as lips pressed against the top of his head.

"Why can't every day be like this?" Wolfram wondered aloud. "Just like this…"

"It's nice, isn't it?" Yuuri agreed, fingers trailing down Wolfram's bare arm. "We've got all day…"

He found himself being rolled onto his back, staring up into impossibly black eyes. The feel of Yuuri's body pressing down on his was enough to drive him mad, thighs parting to accommodate the Maou. Their mouths met briefly, igniting excitement in his blood.

"Yuuri!" The name was muffled between their mingled mouths, his heart hammering as the half-mazoku's hands roamed over his body and under his nightgown.

"I don't want to wake up…" Yuuri murmured as their kiss ended, his fingers resting high on Wolfram's thigh.

"Yuuri…"

* * *

"Yuuri…"

The world was swaying beneath him, despite the warmth of arms that held him still. For a brief, uncomprehending moment, he thought he was in the king's bedroom and that Greta was jumping on the bed. He snuggled into the warmth at his side, thinking it was his wayward fiancé. "Yuuri… tell Greta to stop jumping on the bed…"

"Yuuri, hm? Isn't that the name of the one who rejected you?"

Trying to open his eyes, Wolfram fought rising panic as he recalled the events of the past two days. In his very indirect, Yuuri-ish way, the Maou had rejected Wolfram as his fiancé, forcing the mazoku warrior to flee from Shin Makoku. Forever. There would be no more sharing a bed with Yuuri, no more reading bedtime stories to their adopted daughter. He could pretend that they didn't exist, for all they mattered anymore. Whether or not someone cared what fate befell him, legally, he belonged to Lord Jerai – the man could do whatever he wanted, and Wolfram was helpless to do more than resist.

"G-get off me!" he growled, trying to gather the strength to push at the man while his stomach made its displeasure known.

"Is that any way to speak to the man who holds your life in his hands?" Jerai asked as his hand trailed under the hem of Wolfram's tunic, feeling the soft flesh there. Instinctively, Wolfram jolted backwards with enough force to send him sprawling to the floorboards. Was he on a ship? "Most people would be licking my boots right now, instead of practically begging for an ass-kicking."

"Touch my 'ass' and you'll be the one kicked!" he glared up at Jerai who was sitting on the edge of a large bed. A flash of anger shot through the human lord's brown eyes – the only warning he had before he was hauled off the ground and tossed across the cot.

"Why that man wants a spoiled little brat like you is beyond me!" Jerai muttered, yanking the material of Wolfram's shirt up to expose the fair flesh of his back. "You're not even worth sticking it in!"

When he heard the sound of a leather belt slipping over cloth, the blond mazoku fought to get to his feet – only to find an immovable steel arm holding him face-down on the mattress.

"Don't you fucking dare!" he shouted, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. This was totally humiliating, being treated like an ungrateful child by a human who was probably half his age! //I want to go _home_!// Experimentally, he lashed out with his legs in the hopes that he would catch his 'master' off guard. It worked about as effectively as Yuuri's attempts to get out of signing documents.

When the first blow fell, he was unprepared for it. No one had ever beat him before, much less with a belt! His only punishment had ever come from Gwendal in the form of a spanking, but that one memory could not have prepared him for the pain that bit into his skin. Coupled with the dull ache in his bones that seemed to have settled in, he couldn't suppress a yelp.

"That's for insubordination, brat!" Jerai informed him, cracking the leather across his shoulders a second time. "And that's for threatening your superior!"

"Beating someone…" Wolfram ground out between his teeth, "who is not well makes you the worst kind of inferior!"

A huff of breath from behind him was the only sound he heard before a whistle split the air. The leather strap hit much harder than it had before, landing across his lower back and causing stars to impair his vision. A wail escaped his bitten lips, body instinctively trying to push through the mattress to get away from the burning pain. "A-ah!"

"As if I'd be stupid enough to bring a mazoku sorcerer under his own power to my Lord! Those hoseki stones aren't there for decoration!"

//Hoseki?// Wolfram looked to the bracelets he wore on either wrist, and though of the jeweled collar around his neck. The only hoseki stones he had ever seen were pinkish or red in hue, never such a deep shade of blue. //That explains the pain I felt… last night?//

"Not that it will matter much longer. Soon we'll be in Small Shimeron, and your maryoku will be useless anyway." To emphasize his glee, Jerai cracked the belt, laughing when Wolfram cried out and tried to pull away. "That's much better!"

The swaying, which he had managed to ignore while trying – and failing – to stave off Jerai, came back into focus, punctuated by the throbbing pain in his back. He groaned as his stomach roiled, trying to tug his shoulder out from under his tormentor's hand. "Don't make me beat you again, kid! I'm not stopping at three if I have to do it again."

"I need to –" Wolfram clasped a hand over his mouth as he felt that familiar feeling of sea-sickness.

Seeing the greenish tinge to the mazoku's face, Jerai released him fast enough that Wolfram was able to stumble towards the privy. He barely made it over the bowl before his stomach emptied its contents.

Under different circumstances, Wolfram knew that Conrart would have been by his side to stroke his hair, or wipe his face with a damp cloth. Even Yuuri, just after they first met, had been there to bring him simple broth. As he retched air, Wolfram couldn't help but cry for the loss of his brothers, of the friend he had had in Yuuri. Eventually, when his stomach seemed satisfied that it was empty, he sobbed openly, uncontrollably, not caring what Jerai or anyone else had to say in the matter.

"I'd recommend you not fall asleep in there, unless you're looking to get pissed on in the morning."

Wordless, shaking and still in considerable pain from both the hoseki and the beating, Wolfram crawled out of the bathroom, curling up on the floor in the corner.

The sound of the bed creaking alerted him to Jerai's presence, and shamefully, he whimpered.

"Shut up, already!" the man ordered, dropping a blanket over his head. "Get some sleep!"

Sniffling – loudly – Wolfram tried to settle beneath the blanket as comfortably as possible. It was difficult, given the pain in his back when he moved, and the agony whenever the fabric of his shirt grazed the wounds. He used his hands as a pillow, finally falling asleep with his back to the wall.

* * *

To be continued…


	6. Superman

AN: Thank you for all the great reviews! Just a random disclaimer: I watch a lot of Star Trek. When I first started reading the manga and watching the series, it struck me how many similarities there are between Vulcans and Mazoku…. So I took a few liberties in this story, but as with anyone else you find on FFnet…. I don't own any of it. Also, whenever a chapter is Yuuri's POV, Conrart becomes 'Conrad'.

Superman

Yuuri was aware that he was dreaming, but could not find it within himself to feel the sense of concern that, perhaps, he should have. All around him, a forest had appeared out of the mist – alive and filled with the sounds of birds. It felt foreign and familiar all at once.

"Hello?" he called, voice echoing in the trees. Thick, leafy branches sheltered him from the brightness of the sun overhead, but despite the sweet relief promised by the shade, it was unbearably _hot_. Uncomfortable, the Maou unbuttoned his jacket, shrugging it from his shoulders and letting it fall to the forest floor. With a confidence he possessed only in dreams, he moved through the forest, taking in the beauty of nature surrounding himself, and listening for something… something that seemed to be missing, that was very important. Elusive.

Reluctantly, the trees parted before him, revealing a small clearing at the center of which stood a large cherry tree in full blossom. A slight breeze wafted by, easing the fiery warmth of the air and lifting the soft pink flowers of the cherry tree. As the petals fell from their branches, he recognized a figure sitting beneath the tree.

"Yuuri?"

Wolfram sat with his legs folded beneath his body like an angel fallen from heaven. The mazoku's eyes were red-rimmed, emerald gaze filled with unshed tears. Dressed oddly in the standard tunic and pants of a peasant, Yuuri's so-called fiancé seemed not to notice the abnormal warmth of the day.

He couldn't describe the relief he felt, seeing the blond before him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right with the situation. "Why are you here, Wolf?" he heard himself ask, voice echoing strangely in the clearing. It took longer to cross the distance between them, his legs moving as if through molasses. Within arms reach, he knelt on the ground, wrapping Wolfram in a hug. "I miss you."

"This isn't real." Wolfram whispered, face pressed against the half-mazoku's shoulder. "I'm dreaming."

Closing his eyes, Yuuri breathed deeply the lilac scent of Wolfram, feeling the dreadful heat of the forest soak into his skin. "You have to come home."

"I want to, Yuuri," the fire mage replied earnestly, voice cracking. "But I –"

Thunder crashed overhead in the cloudless, bright blue sky. Violently, the wind whipped at his back, but he clutched Wolfram's lithe body to his chest. "I won't let you go!" he promised, feeling strong fingers dig into the bared flesh of his back.

"I don't want to wake up. Please, don't make me wake up!"

The thunder was becoming more louder, and more frequent. It was like listening to clips of every day life, hearing words, and feeling the certainty of change in the air. Something was seriously amiss.

"YUURI!"

* * *

Disorientation was inescapable as deep black eyes fluttered open, and he felt the air rush by as he fell from Ao's back. It probably hadn't been the smartest thing to do, falling asleep on the back of a moving animal. Yuuri hit the ground with a thud, feeling more disappointed than embarrassed.

"Wolfram…" he murmured, ignoring the concerned looks of those around him. Above his head, Conrad and Gwendal exchanged looks of concern and disdain.

"Oi, Shibuya!" Murata cackled, bringing his own steed towards the fallen Maou, "We're almost there, see? That's Bielefeld manor, right there on the other side of that gate. Have you thought about what you're going to say?"

Murata's words penetrated his skull, but Yuuri couldn't find the energy to concentrate. Recalling the smell that had been so purely Wolfram in his dream, he felt the urge find the blond.

//It's like… my body thinks Wolf is in trouble. I want to protect him, that's all.//

Normally, it was the other way around – Wolfram usually had to protect Yuuri. The Maou could count on one hand the times that he had protected the fiery mazoku. Wolfram was very… precious… to him, and even if he didn't quite return Wolfram's feelings, he would rather die than let any harm befall his friend. What he couldn't explain away – to himself, let alone anyone else – was why he felt sure that Wolfram was in danger.

//It was just a dream. A dream, and nothing more!//

"Your majesty."

Yuuri blinked, glancing up at Conrad. His godfather's hand was being offered to help him off the ground, and so he took it, though his legs felt rather unsteady. The heat of day from his dream permeated reality, or maybe it was reality that had seeped into the dream. The desire to remove his jacket was strong, though a rapidly rising nausea quelled it effectively. Fingers grasping Conrad's sleeve, Yuuri fought the urge to vomit as a line of agony blossomed across his shoulder blades down to his left hip.

"G-gah!" Back arching, he clung to Conrad for dear life, feeling tears well up behind his eyes. Certain that he was being attacked, Yuuri couldn't help but wonder why neither his godfather nor his secretary of state were coming to his rescue.

"Yuuri, what's wrong? Yuuri?!" The worry in Conrad's voice was almost enough to make the young Maou feel guilty for his treacherous thoughts, but when another lash overlapped the first, he couldn't help but feel justified. His knuckles were turning white from the death grip he had on Conrad's sleeve, tears falling from his eyes as the pain intensified.

"It hurts!" he cried, unable to move. "W-what's happening, Conrad?"

The Lion of Luttenburg brushed the hand Yuuri wasn't clinging to over the Maou's forehead, then turned his attention on Murata and Gwendal. "We have to get him inside. Yuuri, I'm going to carry you, okay?" his godfather informed, gently scooping Yuuri into his arms with only a small whimper as protest.

"Waltorana will not be happy about this." Gwendal pointed out darkly. From the corner of his tear-filled eyes, Yuuri could see Conrad's older brother walking towards the large wrought iron gates with Murata in tow.

"But on the contrary, this new development might make him very happy." Murata replied with a smile. The sunlight caught on the surface of his glasses, hiding his wide black eyes from view.

As Conrad carried him closer to the gate, Yuuri could see two soldiers standing on either side, each looking more than a little flabbergasted to see the King and his retainers. "B-but, Lord von Voltaire kyo… you don't understand. Lord Waltorana is –"

"I don't care. The king is ill. If Waltorana thinks that the reputation of Bielefeld is sour now, it will be much worse if something should happen to his majesty the Maou."

"Y-yes, sir."

The gates opened slowly, allowing their small part and horses to enter the grounds of Bielefeld manor. Had he not been in such pain, Yuuri might have felt relief at the prospect of seeing Wolfram. Even intense agony was replaced by surprise when he saw Waltorana storming out of the beautifully crafted building with murderous intent. Everything about the mazoku's stance reminded him of the first time he had travelled to Bielefeld, one of the rare occasions when Wolfram required saving. The blonds' uncle had been very abrupt with Yuuri, and had no qualms about his intention to seat Wolfram as the twenty-eighth Maou of Shin Makoku. Never having had any uncles of his own, Yuuri had appreciated the sheer love and adoration Waltorana had for his nephew.

This Waltorana reminded Yuuri a lot of the Waltorana he had met back then.

"You!" the older mazoku pointed at him, cheeks red with rage. "How dare you come here?! Have you come to gloat, you selfish, ignorant oaf?! Are you satisfied with yourself now?!"

"I-Is he talking to me?" Yuuri asked Conrad timidly.

Deep brown eyes gazed down at him with love and concern. "Don't worry. We won't let anything happen to you. You're our Maou, remember?"

"Hmph!" Gwendal groused, stepping forward. "His Majesty the Maou is ill, and requires rest. It would be in everyone's best interest for you to let us inside."

Silently, Waltorana raised his arm above his head. A ball of fire was rapidly growing in his palm – a phenomenon that Yuuri was more than used to, having dodged his fair share since becoming engaged to Wolfram. When the fireball was roughly the size of a coconut, Waltorana hurled it towards Gwendal with all the accuracy and speed of a professional pitcher. "Let you inside? After what that creature did to Wolfram? What you allowed to happen?!"

As the flames hurtled towards them, Gwendal bent to the ground, fingers digging into the dirt and sending up a shielding wall of earth. He stood slowly, glaring at the spot Waltorana stood upon. "I allowed to happen? Wolfram isn't a child to be coddled! He knew the potential for disaster when this farce began. My brother is many things, and while he might be stubborn, stupid he is not!"

Bielefeld's lord growled loudly. "The two of you… you're his older brothers! You were supposed to protect him!" Blue eyes locked on Yuuri with impotent rage. "And now, because of him…"

"Where is Wolfram?" Conrad demanded suddenly. "He wouldn't stand for this while His Majesty is unwell."

"He's… gone." Waltorana replied tartly, hands balling into fists at his sides. "I had no choice! Not after..."

Wind chose that moment to drift by, bringing with it the scent of lilacs. It reminded him painfully of Wolfram. Seeming to sense it, Waltorana's legs slowly folded beneath him, both of his hands reaching up to cover his face. Shoulders shaking with silent sobs, Waltorana was the picture of a broken man. Gwendal braved the distance between them, helping the nobleman to his feet.

"I know it is inconvenient. Your pain is one that I share. But we have an obligation to our king."

Nodding in reluctant agreement, Waltorana allowed himself to lean on Gwendal. "Logical as always, Gwendal von Voltaire. My honor is tarnished as it is, whether or not the Maou chooses to stay. Do as you please."

Yuuri yelped a little as Conrad carried him forward. "Ne, Conrad, I think I can walk. It doesn't hurt so much, honest."

"It's for the best, right now, Shibuya." Murata whispered. "Just be quiet and relax a bit, would you?"

They followed the lord of Bielefeld through the manor's illuminated halls, up a grand staircase and into a large, unused bedroom. Yuuri was laid upon the mattress with care, only to be fussed over by Conrad and Murata. On the other side of the room, Waltorana sank heavily into a chair, with Gwendal standing at his side.

"His temperature is slightly high, and heart rate is elevated for someone who hasn't moved." The incarnation of the Great Sage murmured.

"Stop molesting me!" Yuuri growled, swiping at the hands that seemed to be crawling over his skin. "What the heck is going on?! Where is Wolf?"

"He has been sold." Waltorana's tired voice stated. "It was my… misfortunate duty."

Seeing Yuuri's uncomprehending stare, Gwendal spoke up. "You allowed a breach of protocol, Heika, when you agreed to dance with Saralegui of Small Shimeron. By allowing him to lead, you told all in the room that you were allowing that person to defend your honor. When his hand reached… lower… on your back, he effectively announced in our most highly esteemed tradition that he would be taking Wolfram's place as your fiancé."

"WHAT?!" Yuuri would have thrown himself from the bed had neither Conrad nor Murata held him down. "I didn't know that! I thought when Gwendal-san made that earthquake, he was trying to rescue me! I didn't even want to dance with Sara in the first place!"

"Regardless of 'want', your ignorance caused this situation." Two pairs of accusing eyes glared at Yuuri, who flushed slightly.

"I didn't mean to…"

"It's not necessary to speak of the past. What is more important is the fact that Wolfram will be turning eighty-five in less than a month." Murata flashed his glasses at the king who struggled against the hand on his shoulder. "If you weren't showing the symptoms of a mazoku on the verge of going into heat, I wouldn't be quite so concerned."

//Going into heat? I'm not a dog!//

"Don't give me that look, Shibuya, when it's clear to everyone else in this room that you've been ignoring Gunter's lessons. You chose to accept being the Maou, and with that, you accepted certain responsibilities that all mazoku have the right to believe you would honor. If you really feel responsible for Wolfram's situation, the least you can do is pay attention to what I have to say now, okay?" When Yuuri nodded slowly, Murata smiled brightly. "Great. You understand how humans go through puberty usually around age twelve or thirteen, right? Mazoku go through a similar phenomenon when they turn eighty-five."

"So… Wolfram's mood-swings are because of puberty?"

Gwendal let out a frustrated sound, shaking his head.

"With such little time before his eighty-fifth birthday, Wolfram's body is beginning to produce excess amounts of pheromones to attract his mate of choice. He will experience fevers, lethargy, and periods of intense arousal that will intensify in nature as his birthday approaches. If he should remain… untouched… on the evening of his eighty-fifth birthday, his body will drive him to madness… or death."

"Y-you're kidding, right?" Looking to Conrad for comfort, Yuuri knew that they weren't. "S-so…. Why would you sell Wolfram, knowing that that was going to happen?"

"How many times do I need to spell it out for you? I didn't have a choice!" spat Waltorana from his chair. "Left to the whims of the few mazoku who would have him, Wolfram would have been raped and humiliated by those he had tormented in his youth. At least in the lands of humans, I thought he might have a chance to find someone who… Well, that man was just as good as any of the vultures."

Fire boiled in his blood, and he couldn't help but feel anger at Waltorana's hopeless tone. This was the situation Wolfram had been abandoned to, a human master who might rape the mazoku at will? And Wolfram, finding himself in such a delicate state of mind, would probably be defenseless to any such attack.

"I won't let that happen!" Yuuri exclaimed. "I want the name of this man! Where was he from?!"

"His name," Waltorana replied slowly, "was Lord Jerai of Small Shimeron."

To be continued….


	7. My Immortal

AN: Shorter chapter than anticipated. My grandfather was in the hospital. Hope you enjoy it though!

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My Immortal

The blindfold was making him nervous. Wolfram had never enjoyed surprises - not when his mother had found herself a new beau, nor when he'd been informed that Conrart had been gravely injured during the battle of Luttenburg. Jerai was not giving him a choice, having tied a thick, rather itchy scarf about his eyes as the carriage bounced along. Unable to see, he had suffered the embarassment of being forced to sit across the large man's lap throughout the entire carriage ride, feeling particularly uncomfortable when a meaty thumb would brush beneath his tunic and stroke the skin above trousers. He tried to protest, to fight, but each struggle found a position of pain where the wounds upon his back still healed. Inwardly, he cursed the man's cowardice.

Suddenly, he could feel that the carriage ceased moving. Jerai's massive hands moved from his hips to his shoulders, shoving him off the human's legs. Wolfram growled, eager to get away from the Small Shimeron Lord's touch and felt for where the door of the carriage would be located. He did not expect to find the door already open, and so when his hands met air, he flailed wildly, unable to fight off gravity. He landed rather gracelessly in the dirt, face-first.

Behind him, Jerai was guffawing. "What is it you Mazoku say? 'Pride goeth before a fall'?"

Had Wolfram been able to use his maryoku - if the hoseki around his wrists and throat had not been there to hamper him - Jerai and whatever place he had been brought to would have been reduced to cinders where they stood. Without his talent to help him, though, he was capable only of grinding his teeth together while Jerai hauled him off the ground and bodily tossed him over a broad shoulder, as though the former Prince of Shin Makoku was little more than a sack of potatoes.

"Lord Jerai, good afternoon!" someone greeted as the beast of a man crossed the courtyard. Wolfram could hear the sound of armor moving, and decided that he must be at a castle, and Jerai was being greeted by the guards.

"Hello, Hans. Long time since I saw you last, eh? How's the wife?"

"As good as she can be, what with twins running around. I see you've brought the King his new toy."

Jerai slapped Wolfram's buttocks with his free hand, eliciting a wail of outrage from the mazoku's lips. "Yeah, we'll see how long this one lasts."

"How dare you -"

Jerai was walking again, his boots clicking eerily off what must have been rather bare walls. As Jerai continued to move forward, Wolfram heard the sound of two heavy doors creaking slowly open.

"Unhand me this instant! This is degrading!" Wolfram growled, pounding on Jerai's back impotently with his fists.

"Don't take your anger out on me, brat. I'm not the one who landed myself in the spider's web - you've got your demon King to thank for this, not me."

Coloring deep red in his face, he gasped in surprise as he was suddenly tossed to the cold floor without care.

"He's willful and unruly, sire, but I'm sure you'll enjoy breaking him in." Jerai announced, prodding the bruised mazoku with a booted foot.

"Keep it up, jackass! I'll find out where you sleep, I'll hunt you down and -"

"Oh my," lilted a familiar voice. "I see what you mean, Lord Jerai. But then, it wouldn't be any fun if he wasn't going to be a bit of a challenge, hm?"

Baffled, the youngest of Celi-sama's sons allowed Jerai to pull the itchy scarf from his eyes, revealing Saralegui, King of Small Shimeron, sitting upon his throne. The King wore a large, cheshire grin upon his face, and his hands were steepled in front of him like a man praying thanks for his food.

"You!" the former mazoku Prince felt the blood drain from his face. "But Yuuri - you..."

"Does a dragon have your tongue, Wolfram?" Slowly standing, Saralegui seemed to drink in the flustered appearance of his latest acquisition. Tossing a glare at Jerai, he continued, "He looks a mess. Dear me, Jerai, was it necessary to drag him through the dirt?"

The beastly man shrugged. "Is it my fault that the demon is clumsy as well as stupid?"

"No, I suppose not. We'll have to work on that, won't we?" The platinum blond king mused cheerfully. "I won't, however, have you sitting at my table looking like an urchin off the street. Jerai, get him suitable for supper."

"No way!" Wolfram growled, fighting as the beastly man grabbed him roughly by the wrist. He pulled and twisted, growling in agony when Jerai's grip refused to igive. "I refuse to eat - strike that, I refuse to sit in the same room as you, you treacherous, home-wrecking infantile human!"

Saralegui's eyes flashed brightly, a warning sigh that Wolfram ignored.

"I refuse to be your puppet mazoku! If you want friends so badly perhaps you should stop -"

Small Shimeron's ruler reached out his left hand, and before Wolfram could finish his sentence, the ache in his bones became a gnawing, agonizing fire that spread from his head to his fingertips. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, fighting back the whimper lodged in his throat even as tears

pricked the back of his eyes. His legs were trying to move of their own accord, but Jerai's grip on his arm kept him from moving far.

"Don't fight me, Prince Bielefeld." Saralegui warned. "As enjoyable it is for me to have a challenging new playmate, I'm not the one who will be hurt."

Wolfram glared at the teenaged boy, noting absently that the hoseki stones that adorned his jewelry were pulsing with light. The tears he was fighting to hold back slid down his cheeks as he struggled to control his body, and failed. His arm felt sore where Jerai held fast like an anchor, his body

still fighting to be free, to move towards his spiteful enemy. "I don't care! I won't give in, least of all to you!"

"You say that now, but one way or another, you will come to me." Confident, Saralegui's eyes became softer. "I'm a patient man, and your insubordination has an expiration date. Let's see how you feel in three week's time, shall we?"

The hoseki stopped glowing suddenly, and with it, the pain abated. Relieved, Wolfram sagged with exhaustion, legs collapsing beneath his weight. He felt like he had raced Conrart from Covenant Castle to Shinou's Temple on foot - a mistake he had only made once in his life. Heart pounding, gasping for air, he could only weakly protest as Jerai gathered his body into muscular arms, carrying him from the throne room and into the corridors of the palace.

"Hate him. Hate you all!" he swore softly, vowwing to himself that one day - preferably soon - he would have his revenge.

Jerai ignored him, walking through several long hallways, and up two flights of stairs before halting before a pair of intricately carved doors boasting images of men and women in various positions of sexual congress.

"Oi, Alayna!" Jerai growled, kicking at the door with his foot.

There was the sound of laughter from behind the doors, which opened slowly. Across the threshold, he could see a room filled with opulent furniture, and women of varying ages were clustered around different tables, talking to eachother in whispers.

"Lord Jerai," said a tall, silvery-blond woman with a deceptive smile. "It is a pleasure to see your handsome face again. Tell me, what does our King wish of me today?"

"A bit of a challenge for you, Alayna. This one here," he hefted Wolfram, who glared, "needs to be made ready for dinner."

The woman stepped forward a bit, reaching out to tug at a lock of Wolfram's golden hair, then travelling down to pinch the flesh of his arm. She pressed her fingers into his chest, feeling roughly his ribs and stomach, then gliding down his thighs to his feet. She frowned deeply. "I suppose that the

structure is there, but I've got my work cut out for me. Alright, boy, get in here."

Jerai set Wolfram on his feet. He stood shakily, feeling his head swim, though he couldn't be certain if the cause was his 'bout with the hoseki and Saralegui's anger, or weakness brought on by hunger. He couldn't recall having eaten since before leaving his Uncle's manor, and what little had been in his stomach had been vomited on the voyage across the sea.

With an exasperated sigh, Alayna grabbed him by the ear, dragging him inside the door before another young woman slammed it shut.

"Ouch! Let go!" he growled, taking note of the various states of undress the women were in. Concubines - it was the only explaination. Saralegui had bought and paid for him to be a concubine! "Get your whore hands off me!"

The older woman stopped, her manicured nails digging into the flesh of his ear. "Elisha, Kianna. I'll need your assistance. Fetch the oils. King Saralegui wants our brother here to be prepared for the night."

A pair of twin red heads got to their feet, scurrying through an archway to the right that held a large bath room. Alayna pulled him towards it as well, until they were near the edge of the tub. She released his ear without a word, then shoved him roughly over the edge and into the water, still clothed.

Sputtering for air, Wolfram reached for the edge of the tub, intending to pull himself out. A pair of hands pulled him backward, though, holding him still as one of the twins tugged at his soaked pants.

"What do you think you're doing?! Stop that!" he lashed out with his legs, but the water logged pants slowed him down. Soon, the girl's nimble fingers had divested him of his pants and even his undergarments. He struggled with his two captors when they tried to remove his shirt, managing to land a solid SMACK to the first girl's porcelain pale cheek before it was torn from his shoulders, leaving him vulnerable and exposed for anyone to see.

Heavy weight dragged him down, pushing him beneath the water's surface. Upon resurfacing, he gasped for breath, glaring at Alayna who stood in the archway.

"Only King Saralegui has permission to mark any of his concubines. Just as these girls cannot marr your beauty, you cannot marr them. Don't make such a mistake again."

Sputtering as an arm wrapped around his neck, grasping him in a choke hold, Wolfram could only blush as he was thoroughly cleaned, cataloguing vengeance within his mind for later consultation. He would get Saralegui back, even if it killed him.

to be continued...


	8. One Step at a Time

AN: This was a really difficult chapter to write. Sara was speaking to me very clearly, but Wolfram was putting up... well, his usual fight. Hope everyone likes it!

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One Step at a Time

Mazoku were extremely entertaining to watch when they were both angry and impotent, Saralegui decided, watching as Wolfram stabbed viciously at his food. Yuuri's former fiance glared up at him from beneath shining locks of golden hair, his emerald eyes furious.

"It isn't polite to play with your food, Prince Wolfram." the King chided with a smile.

"It's not polite to betray Yuuri and hold me captive here, either. Whatever you think I'm going to do -"

With a wave of his hand, Sara cut the older boy off. "Spare me your drama. I've already told you: one way or another, you will come to me of your own accord. I must say, I'm going to enjoy watching you cry after I saddle you. Jerai tells me your tears are quite pretty."

Wolfram's face paled, and his eyes slowly darkened.

"Why would you want - you're human, you need children, so why -"

"I have plenty of whores for that. Progeny are not a problem." Sara leaned forward on the dining table, hands wrapped around eachother as he watched the mazoku intently. "I have heard rumors, though, about the abilities of the pureblood mazoku nobles. While such... shall we say - skills... are not necessary for me, I rather think a child of both worlds might, like Yuuri, one day find himself on the throne of Shin Makoku as well as Small Shimeron."

"You - how dare you! After all Yuuri's done to help you, and all this time... all you want is his power?" Green eyes glared balefully at the human King. "I knew I didn't like you."

"You'll learn to accept me, though. Who else would have you? Not Yuuri, I think. And I somehow doubt that anyone else would want anything more than to prove that you aren't as high and mighty as you've always acted. Face it, Wolfram: I'm the best you can do. You should be grateful that I even want you at all."

Ignoring the angry, teary-eyed glare that Wolfram had fixed him with, Saralegui carefully placed a piece of steak on his tongue. "Yes, I think I'll savor this." He chewed thoroughly before swallowing, then smirked at the former soldier.

"Yuuri will never forgive you!" the blond growled weakly. "He'll find out about this, and he'll -"

"Oh, do tell! What will Yuuri do to me?" Saralegui cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "He won't attack Small Shimeron, because after all, the people of this country are innocent, and he detests war. If anything, he'll admonish me, and ask me to change my ways. Which, we both know, I won't. So should our dear Yuuri-chan find out that I have captured his former-fiance-by-accident, I am confident by that time that you shall have already born me several children, and will have accustomed yourself to your place."

"And what place is that? Your whore?"

"Dear me, someone should really do something about your manners." The young King stood up suddenly, crossing the dining room towards Wolfram's chair. Inwardly, he grinned as those bright green eyes widened, gold chains chiming as the mazoku fought to move as far away as possibly from the one who owned him. Summoning the magic within his blood, Saralegui called to the hoseki within Wolfram's adornments, feeling dark pleasure as the mazoku struggled against the magic. "_Follow me._"

"N-no!"

Brooking no argument, Saralegui fingered the links of metal that chained his captive's wrists to the table. He tugged sharply on the metal, flooding the hoseki with his power as he did so, earning a cry of pain as Wolfram was brought to the floor at the King's feet. Blond curls were grasped tightly in a clenched fist as Saralegui bent over, hissing in Wolfram's ear, "Last chance to prove that you're a good boy."

"Go fuck yourself!"

White hot rage settled in the pit of his stomach, and he wrenched Wolfram off the ground by the grasp he held on those golden locks. The mazoku snarled out another profanity as he was slammed roughly against the dining table, face-first.

"Berias." he turned his gaze towards the shadowy figure standing behind the King's chair. "Strip him."

"What are you - don't you dare touch me!" As the houseki drained the mayoku from his body, Wolfram sobbed, helpless as Berias' hands grasped the hem of his shirt and yanked, effectively tearing the material up the back. The gauzy material fell down his shoulders, the sleeves pooling around his wrists as his skin prickled in the chilled air. "Stop it!"

Saralegui's body guard then gripped the waistline of the pants that rode low on the mazoku's hips, and with one swift motion, pulled the garment down, exposing the rest of the blond's lithe body.

"I'll kill you for this! Just you wait, you'll pay -"

"I do so love a challenge." the human king smirked. He tightened his grasp on Wolfram's hair, and trailed the fingers of his other hand down that pale, beautifully smooth back. There was a satisfying rush as Wolfram bucked, trying to move away, growling in frustration as he failed to get away. Saralegui raised his hand, and swung it down with all the force he could muster, rejoicing in the pained howl that escaped those soft lips. "Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"You're a monster!"

"Have it your way, then." He raised his hand again, and showered five powerful blows to the soft flesh of Wolfram's behind, watching as the shape of his hand blossomed blood red along the pale skin. He doubted that anyone had ever dared to treat the former noble in such a fashion - no doubt the reason why the blond was so headstrong and unmannered. Saralegui was more than happy to remedy that problem - after all, he couldn't have Wolfram influencing their progeny in such a negative way. Rubbing the abused flesh, feeling unsatisfied with the lack of response from his captive, Saralegui motioned towards Berias, demanding with his eyes that the table be cleared off.

"What are you doing?" Wolfram demanded, watching fearfully as the long-haired warrior moved plates of food towards the center of the table.

Saralegui answered him with actions, spinning him around and lifting him by the hips to sit on the cold wood of the table. Using the mazoku's surprise to step between his bare thighs, Saralegui pressed him backwards, so that his back rested against the cloth that ran down the center of the table. He let his hands roam freely, grinning with delight as Berias held fast to the chains on Wolfram's wrists, effectively pinning him where Saralegui wanted him.

"S-stop! Let me go!" Wolfram said weakly, tears clinging thickly to his eyelashes.

Saralegui silenced him with his mouth, using the opportunity to trail his hand down to the more intimate part of his body. The mazoku bucked, crying out in muffled protest as his biology was used against him. When the mazoku's climax arrived, Saralegui smiled gently, watching as Wolfram sobbed helplessly.

"I'm being very polite with you, dear Prince. I think you should be very grateful for my curtesy." he said, stepping away from the blond and wiping his hand on the torn rags of Wolfram's shirt. "Think about it on your way back to Alayna."

He watched as Berias half-dragged the naked mazoku towards the hall, ignoring the half-hitched sobs emitting from the blond as he was pulled along by the leash of gold. He would break Wolfram. It was only a matter of time.

"King Saralegui," a servant entered the room, not looking at Wolfram as he was pulled past her. She curtseyed to the King, holding out a letter for him.

He took the parchment, opening it and scanning the document. "Ah, so Yuuri is coming to see me about Jerai. Well, this could get interesting." He smiled, thinking of the delight he would feel in taking Wolfram while Yuuri sat beneath the same roof. It would be too sweet! "This will be fun!"

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To be continued...


	9. Seven Times, Seventy Times

AN: I have been sitting on the first part of this chapter... FOREVER. I'm sorry it took so long to finish writing it! The good news is... one more chapter and we've caught up to the chapters I've already finished writing! Yay! ^_^

Thank you, everyone who reviews! It really makes me smile! ^_^

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"Seven Times Seventy"

_Someone was sobbing. The sound of it carried to his ears above the gentle whisper of water. It was familiar in tone, though the emotion behind it was foreign to Yuuri's ears._

_"Don't cry," he said, slowly opening his eyes._

_He was standing in the midst of an ornate room at the center of which was a large, sunken pool of water. Sitting on the steps in the shallow end of the pool was Wolfram, scrubbing his skin so viciously that it was left red and raw. Tears streaked the blond soldier's face, shoulders shaking as he fought for composure and failed._

_"Wolf?" Yuuri asked, walking towards the water's edge. "What's wrong?"_

_When the room's other occupant refused to respond, Yuuri reached out, letting his fingers caress the locks of golden hair curling wetly on the back of Wolfram's neck._

_A broken gasp escaped Wolfram's lips, and he turned around, green eyes wide and red-rimmed._

_"Yuuri?" The incredulous look on Wolfram's face, coupled with that horrible sadness lingering behind his eyes, fostered a protectiveness in Yuuri that he had not felt necessary before. Wolfram rarely let his guard down enough to let anyone see past the surface of his emotions, and to be trusted with this moment, the raw reality of Wolfram's emotions, whatever the cause, was an honor that Yuuri would not deny._

_He let his fingers follow the contours of Wolfram's neck, drifting lazily to caress the length of a well-defined arm. The skin beneath his hand was soft and wet, incredibly warm and deceptively smooth. Watching as Wolfram's eyes widened, Yuuri stepped into the water, decreasing the distance between them by wrapping his free arm about the warrior's slim waist._

_"Yuuri, I'm so sorry -" the blond blurted, bringing his hands up to press against Yuuri's chest._

_The Maou ignored the resistance, following the feeling of their synchronizing heartbeats. He crushed Wolfram to him quickly, robbing him of the chance to protest by claiming his lips forcefully. When at last he ended the kiss, Wolfram's sobbing had increased in intensity, the blond becoming nearly inconsolable with an unknown grief._

_"You shouldn't, Yuuri, I'm not..." Wolfram's mouth was saying stop, but he made no move to stop Yuuri from laying him back upon the tiled floor. "I didn't want to, but he forced me to!"_

_"That doesn't matter to me." Yuuri replied, nuzzling the skin of Wolfram's neck. "You smell so sweet."_

_"Yuuri!" Wolfram whimpered, his arms at last wrapping about Yuuri's shoulders. "This is another dream, isn't it?"_

_Yuuri didn't think it was - it felt too real - but then, he'd never had any desire to do this with Wolfram while he was awake. It was better not to think about it too much, he supposed, allowing himself to settle between Wolfram's wet thighs. The cradle of Wolfram's warm skin was electric where it met his own, sending tingles up his spine._

_"Wolf, I..."_

_He pulled back, looking down at Wolfram, feeling an unidentifiable emotion welling in his chest. Without understanding how it was possible, Yuuri knew that Wolfram had been molested, could feel every hated touch, sense every self-loathing thought Wolfram had had since the incident occurred._

_"They may touch your body, Wolf," Yuuri whispered, enveloping the mazoku in a passionate hug, "But they will never be able to reach you here like I can. You belong to me and no one else."_

_"Y-yes."_

_When again their lips met, Yuuri sensed relief in Wolfram's kiss. Clinging to the blond, Yuuri breathed in deeply, the scent of Wolfram permeating his senses until he was dizzy with it. He felt like he was falling, the sensation of Wolfram's body becoming far, far away..._

* * *

"He's waking up."

Conrart's voice greeted his ears before his eyes opened, taking in the sight of the cabin's ornate, gilded ceiling. Another dream?

"Huh?" He slowly forced himself into a sitting position, looking from his godfather to Murata and Waltorana, both of whom sat at a nearby table. Waltorana looked grim, though Murata's glasses were glinting dangerously over top of the game board sitting before him. "Was I dreaming?"

"The maryoku of a Maou behaves differently than non-Maou mazoku." Murata replied. "There hasn't been such a young Demon King in the history of Shin Makoku, so I can't be certain, but I would say you weren't exactly dreaming."

"What was it, then?" Yuuri grumbled, fists clenching in the sheets. He was getting tired of the odd, realistic dreams he kept having. It was frustrating.

"We're almost to port." As if that simple statement was enough to explain it all, the Great Sage grinned broadly. "Have you thought about what you're going to say to Saralegui? He might think it rude of us to chase down one of his noblemen in order to renegotiate Waltorana's agreement."

"Hey, Murata!" Yuuri growled. "Don't try to jump topics on me! Why are my dreams of Wolfram so real?"

Waltorana moved one of his white game pieces, causing Murata to curse. "It's a rare phenomenon that occurs between bonded mazoku of considerable maryoku. The Great One has gifted you with a spirit realm in which you and my nephew can communicate directly, even when you're miles apart. So while physically your body is sleeping, your mind is actively communicating with Wolfram's mind."

"Aw man, just when I think this place can't get any weirder..." Yuuri sighed, then allowed Conrart to help him out of the large bed. "So now I can't even dream alone?"

"It's not that bad, Shibuya. The bond between you and Wolfram is new and weak. You probably shared that dream last night because something upset him enough to alert the Maou."

"He's right, Your - Yuuri." Conrart agreed. "You are not likely to experience such dreams every night, even should you choose to marry my brother. Such dreams are usually the result of distance and distress, like Geika says."

Waltorana was conspicuously silent, ignoring the three other mazoku in the room. Yuuri found it odd, but ignored the little voice nagging at the back of his mind as he pulled on a pair of clean black trousers and a light-weight, silk shirt. He suspected that Waltorana knew more than either Conrart or Murata were telling him, and he suspected that whatever information the older man had, it did not bode well for the Maou.

"So if we're almost to port, that means we're about two days from Small Shimeron, doesn't it?" Yuuri murmured. "I hope Sara can help us find Wolfram. He was so upset last night..."

The shudder that ran down Yuuri's back at the memory was double-edged with anger he felt towards Wolfram's captors. He wanted to hunt down the bastard who had dared to make Wolfram feel dirty, unloved and worthless. Wolfram was fierce and loyal, a great friend and a good father to Greta. Wolfram would never, EVER be unlovable or worthless, and damn those who would try to make him think otherwise.

"I'm sure we'll find him soon, Yuuri."

Nodding, Yuuri could only pray that Conrart was right.

* * *

Wolfram had fallen asleep on the cold marble floor of the bathing room after hours of crying, only to be woken up by the sound of Alayna's voice. Sleep-dazed, he instinctively pressed himself deeper into the shadowy corner of the room, wishing he'd taken Yozak's original offer to go to Cavalcade when he'd had the chance. Though he hadn't known Saralegui's harem for long, Alayna made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Where is that damned mazoku?" the woman's voice demanded loudly. "That little blond bitch is more trouble to me than he's worth!"

"I know," Elisha agreed. "Poor Yshi is in such a state. It's hard to believe that King Saralegui got so violent."

His shoulders shook slightly, recalling the attempts on Saralegui's part to lure Yuuri into acts of violence. He knew what the Small Shimeron King was capable of, and would never, ever underestimate him again. It was a lesson he had learned far too late, at too high a cost.

"She'll never return to us. Yshi will probably spend the rest of her life in an asylum." Alayna continued. She sighed deeply. "I spent four years cultivating that girl. Four years, all to be wasted by the King's anger towards that demon! I won't have another one of my girls hurt for that little cock tease!"

"He must be in the bathroom." Kianna deduced. "We've looked everywhere else, and unless he's managed to sprout wings and fly, it's the only place he could be."

Eyes widening with dawning horror, Wolfram watched in a daze as Alayna and Elisha entered the room. He scrambled to get to his feet, but Alayna was on him like white on bone before he knew what had hit him. The human woman's long fingers fisted in his hair, yanking him across the room towards the door.

"You're insane!" Wolfram growled, digging his nails into the flesh of her wrist in attempt to get free. "Let me go!"

"Instead of Kianna, King Saralegui can take his frustrations out on you!" Alayna snarled, shoving him in the midst of the large room that served as entertainment and sleeping area for Saralegui's concubines. Immediately, he was surrounded by the whores - held naked and immobile on the floor as they rubbed oils and perfumes into his skin. "Maybe now you will learn your place!"

"Even if it kills me," Wolfram bit out, struggling against the girls holding him down, "I will personally rip your eyes out before I die!"

The parody of a smile on Alayna's face was a gruesome sight to behold. It stayed on her face like a mask, even as she drew closer, and knelt between his spread legs. His body had already reacted - against his will - to the feeling of hands roaming his skin. Alayna grasped his anatomy, and he watched as a black ring was placed over the head, forced down the shaft and left, constricting the blood flow.

He gasped - in shock, in frustration. His blood was on fire, he yearned for release at the hands of one mazoku who probably didn't even know that Wolfram was gone. Alayna's smirk widened evilly, and she allowed her hand to brush over the silk of his skin, tormenting him further.

"I imagine that King Saralegui will take one look at you this way, and will choose to do something about it, don't you?" she asked softly. "He expects one of his beloved concubines in his bed at night, after a hard day of running the kingdom all on his own. Last night, you upset him rather profoundly. You can make it up to him."

"Don't do this!" Wolfram said, rather too breathless for his own liking.

"You did this to yourself." Alayna replied easily, motioning to the whores to stand him on his feet. She walked towards a recess in the far wall and pressed a small gold stone. The wall swung away, revealing a spiraling staircase lit with torches.

They led him through the secret passageway and up the stairs, sniggering when his lead-like feet tripped on the cold hard stone. When they reached the top of the stairs, Alayna opened a small wooden door and shoved back a heavy tapestry, allowing the harem to shove Wolfram inside the room.

He felt even weaker, knowing that this was Saralegui's room, and that the platinum-blond would return in mere hours. Sobs of fear and frustration bubbled out of his mouth as he was forced onto the silk-covered bed, arms pulled above his head and tied tightly to the posts. No doubt when Saralegui arrived to find him here, he would go through with his original threat, to mount Wolfram until a half-breed child swelled within his belly.

"And for the final touch," Alayna gloated, removing a small vial from her bosom and opening it. She poured the contents on Wolfram's chest, rubbing it into his skin before practically skipping out of the room. As he lay on the bed, yanking uselessly on the ropes that bound him, he recognized the scent of the oil - orchid - and knew that he was doomed.

* * *

**_To be continued..._**


	10. Bent

AN: I am so sorry it took so long to update! The last two semesters of school were crazy, trying to finish up my associate's. After this, I have one more difficult chapter to write, and then it gets easier. Promise!

* * *

Bent

Saralegui had always enjoyed the view of his castle from his office. Looking through the pane of glass, he often imagined the world below as little more than a child's bauble – something he could pick up and shake as he pleased, or toss and destroy should his desires demand it. Even now, months after Yuuri had smoothed over their friendship with his pretty words and childish naivete, the citizens of Small Shimeron spoke – not of their King, but of the Maou. How charming Yuuri was, how kind and sincere.

/They were supposed to adore _me_./

Even now, part of his frustrations were being fueled by Wolfram's reluctance to accept his fate. The blond mazoku refused to yeild to any save Yuuri, and Saralegui was becoming tired of waiting. He couldn't wait to show his power to the former Prince, or to hear the sobs fall from that pretty mouth as he claimed what was legally his.

The last few days had been... beyond trying. He could only thank the Heavens that Yuuri-heika would arrive soon, if only so that Saralegui could finally be done with Wolfram's virginal histrionics. He could still feel Wolfram's smooth skin beneath his fingers, and could imagine the feel of the mazoku's body wrapped intimately about his own. Surely Wolfram would calm down once there were children to care for, once there was no doubt that Yuuri would never take him back?

The sun was sinking low over the horizon, bringing him closer still to the day he would claim his prize. Until that moment arrived, Saralegui would have to suffer the attentions of his harem of women. The previous night, he had returned to his bed chamber to find Yshi waiting for him. She was a petite, pretty little thing that had reminded him greatly of Wolfram. After a frustrating dinner, Saralegui had allowed his anger to seep through his attentions to the concubine, and beat the girl thoroughly before forcing himself upon her. He'd enjoyed the way her screams had echoed as she'd bled over him and ruined the silk sheets of his bed. He longed to hear the words she had screamed on Wolfram's lips instead: 'Please stop, I'll be good!'

When he'd finished, the girl had laid in a helpless mess, murmuring to herself like a simpleton. Broken.

Saralegui had no doubts that Wolfram would not break the way Yshi had. The mazoku had been spoiled by his family, but handled his mistreatment at Yuuri's hands in a way that was completely unexpected. The King of Small Shimeron sensed that Wolfram would thrive beneath an iron rule – in Saralegui's hands, Wolfram would become quiet. Submissive. Satisfied.

A soft knock at the door drew Saralegui's gaze away from the window, returning his mind to the reality surrounding him.

"Heika," Berias' voice was gruff with tension. "Word has been received of Yuuri-heika's arrival. His entourage should arrive tomorrow, mid-morning."

"Does Yuuri-heika make mention of his business here?" Saralegui asked sweetly, turning around to face his only friend and trusted body guard.

"No, Heika."

"Oh dear, how rude." Saralegui walked past Berias, towards the door. Before he opened the door, he paused a moment. "Do be sure that word finds its way to Alayna. She'll be most pleased to disappoint our resident mazoku with the news."

"As you wish, Heika."

Saralegui left his office, whistling cheerfully as he walked the path towards his bed chamber. Along the way, he passed the rooms that were being prepared for Yuuri-heika's arrival – rooms that remained separate from Saralegui's by one thin wall that would not contain any of the sounds Wolfram would make during his claiming. He wouldn't wait to see the look on Yuuri's face when the double-black, half-blood mazoku realized what had happened, couldn't wait to grind Wolfram's face into the mattress and rub it in Yuuri's nose.

The guards posted on either side of his door didn't flinch as Saralegui entered his room and slammed the door shut in his haste. He had hoped to find Kianna – that wonderfully disobedient little minx – warming his bed, but frowned to find Wolfram in the concubine's stead. The mazoku had been tied to the bed, naked and sprawled out like a feast upon the silk sheets. From the weak way that the blond struggled against the silk holding him captive, he'd been left to suffer for hours. It made for an arousing sight, but as much as Saralegui wished to indulge himself in the mazoku's body, Wolfram was to be the cherry on top of the sundae of Yuuri's misery. It was too soon.

Still, he supposed he could indulge himself a little. He opened the door to the hall slightly, and spoke to the guard outside. "Send for Alayna. Now."

He shut the door and returned his focus to the mazoku who whimpered and struggled, his skin paler than usual. If Wolfram wasn't so stubborn, Saralegui could almost feel sorry for him – it'd no doubt been hours since he'd last eaten or drank, and his limbs must have been tingling with numbness.

Slowly, Sara sat on the edge of the bed and watched with amusement as Wolfram tried to slide his body away. The King of Small Shimeron reached out a hand, caressed the skin of Wolfram's stomach, and watched as creamy cheeks became flush with embarassment and anger.

"Yuuri!" the blond exclaimed. "I want Yuuri! Not you!"

"You can't always get your way." Saralegui countered. "You should be content with what you are given."

The cry of frustration that escaped Wolfram's lips was sweet to his ears. Despite the anguish on the angelic face, Wolfram's body was responding to Saralegui's touch, arching into the king's hand like a cat.

The hidden door in the wall slid open, and Alayna entered. She looked rather pleased with herself, Saralegui noted.

"My King," she said softly, crawling towards him on the floor. Her ample breasts swayed with the movement. "You wished to see me?"

"Yes." Saralegui replied. "Join me."

The blond concubine kissed his silk-clad feet, slowly trailing her lips up his body, enflaming him as she went. When she rubbed her face against his groin, he used his free hand to grasp her arm and haul her onto the bed.

"I suppose I should thank you for bringing Wolfram to me like this." Saralegui said dangerously, delighting as the mazoku moaned against his will while the King caressed his flesh.

"It was my pleasure, King Saralegui." Alayna didn't understand his displeasure, thinking herself safe from Saralegui's wrath. "Orchid perfume has a remarkable property. Not only does it release a mazoku from his inhibitions, in large doses it can cause a mazoku to undergo heat prior to their maturation."

"Is that so?" Saralegui filed away the information for later use, wedging himself between Alayna's legs and rolled her onto the bed beside Wolfram. He kissed her lips and let both of his haands move beneath the silky, transparent dress.

"Oh, yes!" Alayna exclaimed, pressing her body into the touch of his hands. "Is my King pleased with me?"

Before the concubine knew what was happening, Saralegui had grasped her pale neck with both of his hands and squeezed slightly. "Look at his wrists, Alayna."

Despite the grasp he had on her throat, Alayna's gaze travelled to Wolfram's wrists near the headboard. The silk had dug into the delicate skin, and Wolfram's struggles had caused bruises to rise upon his pale flesh.

"You marked my property without permission. And you've jeopardized my plans with your plots and perfume." Saralegui hissed. Tears fell from Alayna's eyes, and he tightened his grasp, feeling the dangerous thunder of her pulse against his fingers. "Can you think of any reason that you shouldn't be punished for?"

He cut off any entreaty Alayna might have made, delighting in the fear that flashed behind her eyes. She struggled slightly against him as her body fought for breath and failed. When at last her body ceased moving, Saralegui rolled it off the mattress and returned his attentions to Wolfram.

"N-no!" Wolfram sobbed. "Please, no, no, no!"

"Not much longer now." Saralegui promised, straddling Wolfram's body. He unbuckled the belt around his slim waist and unfastened his pants before shoving them partially down around his hips, then sank down onto Wolfram's lithe body. "Oh, it's going to be so fun tomorrow! I bet you'll scream for me, won't you?"

He rubbed their groins together, delighting in Wolfram's mortified sobs and whimpered pleas for him to stop. Drunk on the power he had over the mazoku, and the dreams of crushing Yuuri's spirit the next day, Saralegui howled release against his prisoner.

As he drifted to sleep, he smiled against the skin of Wolfram's neck.

* * *

To be continued...


End file.
